


are you thinking of me the times I'm thinking of you

by rsadelle



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: 5+1 Things, Baked Goods, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-04
Updated: 2014-07-04
Packaged: 2018-02-07 11:58:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1898154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rsadelle/pseuds/rsadelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five things Paul baked for James, plus one thing James baked for Paul.</p>
            </blockquote>





	are you thinking of me the times I'm thinking of you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [agalinis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/agalinis/gifts).



> For agalinis, who asked for "a story involving some kind of baked goods." Title from Jason Boland's "Telephone Romeo."

**1\. Blueberry Muffins, July 10**

James knows he's not always the most capable adult, but even he can handle figuring out what he needs to pack and what he can let the movers take care of. He didn't protest too hard, though, when Paul said he was coming to help, because it might be his last chance to see Paul before they play each other in October, and October seems like a long time away.

"At least you don't have much to pack," Paul says, looking around James' living room. It's a familiar chirp about the state of James' house, but it falls flat this time.

There's an awkward moment before James says, "Okay, let's do this."

For all that he doesn't seem to have that much stuff, it takes them most of the day to get the place squared away, and then James stands in the doorway of his bedroom and looks at the bare mattress with dismay. He didn't really plan this very well.

Paul comes to find him and stands in the doorway with him. He puts an arm around James' shoulders. "Come on," he says. "You can have your old room for the night."

It feels right to end his time in Pittsburgh sleeping in Paul's guest room, and he goes downstairs in the morning feeling a little better about his trip, if not having to leave for good.

Paul's already up, and he cracks eggs into a pan when James comes into the kitchen. Then he slides a cup of coffee over to him, and then, kitchen god that he is, he hands James a still-warm blueberry muffin.

James peels paper away from the side of the muffin to bite into it. Sweet, fluffy, juicy when he bites into a blueberry.

"You never made me muffins before," James says.

Paul leaves the eggs on the stove and leans on the counter across from James. "I never made you breakfast in the offseason before," he says. He's wearing his glasses and his hair is fluffy and James hates that he won't get to do this anymore.

"I'll miss you," he blurts out, and then he looks down to take another bite of his muffin.

"I'll miss you too," Paulie says. His voice is soft and warm, and James doesn't dare look at him.

 

**2\. Chocolate Chip Cookies, October 18**

They lose to the Blackhawks. It's a crappy end to James's first road trip with his new team, and he's annoyed and tired by the time he and Carter finally get to their apartment building.

James has his eyes mostly closed on the elevator, so he doesn't notice that Carter is taking them from the garage to the lobby instead of up to their floor until he blindly follows him out into it.

"Man," James says, "this is not my apartment."

"I have a package," Carter says, and he stops at the front desk to retrieve it from Tony, who's on duty tonight.

"One for you too, Mr. Neal," Tony says, and he hands over a box James tucks under his arm without looking at.

They both thank Tony, and this time, James keeps his eyes open enough to make sure Carter isn't taking them anywhere but their floor.

"Don't fall asleep in the hallway," Carter says as he keeps going past James's door to his own.

James flips him off even though Carter probably isn't looking at him anymore and all but falls into his apartment. He leaves his suitcase just inside the door and takes the box to the kitchen. He needs some water anyway. He rips open the FedEx box without looking at the return address and dumps the contents out onto the counter. A plastic container thumps onto the counter, and a piece of paper drifts out after it.

_If you put them in the microwave for 5-10 seconds, you can eat them warm. You can freeze them if you don't eat them all at once._

The note's unsigned, but James recognizes the handwriting, and when he turns the box over, the return address is Paul's.

James opens the container. It's full of chocolate chip cookies. He puts three of them on a plate and puts it in the microwave for a few seconds while he pours himself a glass of milk. He takes a picture of the warm cookies, chocolate starting to melt a little, next to the glass of milk and texts it to Paulie with, _Thanks_.

Warm chocolate chip cookies dipped in milk is the perfect late night snack.

James puts his dishes in the sink and the container in the freezer before he stumbles to his room, pulls all his clothes off, and collapses into bed.

In the morning, he has a text from Paul that says, _You're welcome._

 

**3\. Cornbread, October 25**

"We could have gone out," James says. "Or ordered in. You didn't have to come here and cook."

"Paulie too used to cooking for you," Geno says with a sly grin. "And we know you lazy."

James flips him off, but can't help laughing. He's missed these guys.

"I like cooking," Paul says. "And who knows what you've been eating."

"I've been eating just fine," James says over the sound of Geno's laughter. "I have a meal service."

Paul shakes his head and laughs at that. "It won't be as good as this."

"Probably not," James concedes. He sits down at the counter, watching Paul cook.

Geno joins him after a few minutes, and they hang out around the kitchen while the scent of chili starts wafting through the apartment.

James watches in the same kind of daze he used to watch Paul make breakfast while Paul whisks together dry ingredients in one bowl, then wet ingredients in a second bowl.

Geno elbows James in a very soft spot on his side. "Lazy too lazy to talk?"

James snaps out of it and elbows Geno back. "Fuck you, G."

Geno laughs and easily leans away from James.

"Behave, kids," Paul says as he pours batter into a pan, "or no cornbread for you."

Geno looks at Paul mournfully, in a way that James knows is absolutely and completely faked.

Paul doesn't fall for it, just laughs at both of them and keeps on with his cooking.

James does his best this time to pay attention to talking to Geno instead of getting distracted watching Paul cook.

They sit at the table to eat, because both Paul and Geno expressed surprise that James even had a table and now James has to prove its usefulness.

The chili looks good, but James bites into his cornbread first, without even pausing to put butter on it. It's perfect, moist and flavorful, sweet without being too sweet.

"Good?" Paul asks.

James looks up from his cornbread and gives him a thumbs-up.

"Very good," Geno says. "You master chef."

Paul smiles. "Maybe not a master chef."

"You're my favorite chef," James says now that his mouth is free of cornbread.

The corners of Paulie's eyes crinkle up with his smile. "Thanks."

 

**4\. Frosted Sugar Cookies, December 16**

James checks in at the front desk on his way home from morning skate. He's not exactly expecting packages, but it's December, and it seems prudent to keep an eye on the mail.

John at the front desk wishes him good luck on the game when he hands over a FedEx box. James thanks him for both and only looks at the return address on the box when he's in the elevator. It's another package from Paul.

James manages to restrain himself until he gets into his apartment, but then he tears the box open and carefully takes the plastic container out of it. The cookies in it are in Christmassy shapes, each one with an even layer of frosting.

James bites into one even as he calls Paul, so when Paul answers, James has to finish chewing before he can say, "Robs would kill me if he knew I was eating cookies at all, much less on a game day."

"So don't tell him," Paul says. "Or don't eat them."

"Of course I'm going to eat them," James says. "They're fucking delicious." He takes another bite of cookie. They're possibly the best cookies he's ever had.

Paul chuckles. "They're made with olive oil," he says, "so it could be worse. And I left the sugar sprinkles off the top."

James's mouth is full of cookie, or he probably would have said or done something embarrassing at the thought of the cookies being even better.

"They're really good," James says when his mouth isn't full of cookie. "Thank you." He can't resist adding, "Unless this is a plan to sabotage us and make me play badly tonight."

Paul's chuckle is warm and familiar. "No," he says. "You'll play great no matter what you eat."

James has another bite of cookie, so he can't say anything embarrassing in response to that anyway.

"Besides," Paul says briskly, without the warm sincerity of the compliment, "we need you to win to keep us ahead of the Bruins in the East."

James laughs. "We'll do our best." He looks down at the tupperware. Robs really will kill him if he slows down tonight because he ate too many cookies. It's a sacrifice, but he seals the lid on tightly and puts them away in a cabinet where he won't see them. "Thanks, really."

"You're welcome," Paulie says. "Merry Christmas."

"I'm going to talk to you before Christmas," James says, but he also gives in to the spirit of it and says, "Merry Christmas."

 

**5\. Brownies, February 14**

James is home when the front desk calls up and says he has a package. He takes the elevator down to retrieve it, and tears it open on the way back up. It's from Paul, and there's the now familiar plastic container inside.

James calls Paul once he's inside the apartment, when he can drop his keys and the FedEx box on the table inside the door and not have to juggle very many things.

"Are you sure you're not trying to sabotage me?" he asks as he drops the plastic container onto the counter. "This is the second time you've sent me things on a game day."

"No sabotage," Paul says.

James gets the container open and his eyes almost roll back in his head at the rich, chocolatey smell that comes out of it. "Are these brownies?" He picks one up.

"Yes, James," Paul says, with a patience that is obviously mocking James.

"Hey," James says, "I called you as soon as I got them. I haven't had a chance to try them yet." He bites into the brownie and makes what is probably a ridiculous noise. The brownie is moist and chewy, and there are chocolate chips in it. "There are chocolate chips in these."

"Yes," Paul says. He might be laughing at James, at least a little bit. "They're in the recipe."

"It's really good," James says. "Keep the recipe."

"It's my mom's recipe," Paul says. "I was going to keep it anyway."

"Well, good," James says. He looks at the container full of brownies. "Did you keep any of these for yourself?"

"One or two," Paul admits. "Why? Think I should have sent you the whole pan?"

"No," James says. "You should have one. So we can eat them together." It didn't sound weird in his head, but it sounds a little weird out loud.

"Yeah, okay," Paul says after a moment of silence.

They're both silent for a moment, eating their brownies.

"They're even better with ice cream," Paul says.

James groans. "Why would you put that idea into my head? Now that's all I'm going to be thinking about."

"Sorry," Paul says, not sounding the slightest bit sorry.

"No, you're not," James says. He takes a second brownie out of the container before he closes it up.

"Not really," Paul says. "You can freeze them, have them with ice cream later."

"Mmm," James says around all the chocolate in his mouth. "If I don't just eat them all now."

Paul chuckles. "Robs really would kill you for that."

"Yeah, probably." James puts the container in a cabinet with real regret. "Thanks for sending me brownies. You must be, like, a preferred customer at FedEx now."

"I'm not quite to that level yet," Paul says dryly.

They're quiet for a few moments, James finishing off his second brownie and Paulie just there on the other end of the line.

Paul is the one to break the silence again. "Happy Valentine's Day, James."

"I miss you," James blurts out, the thing he tries not to say so often that it becomes too much.

Paul sighs, and James echoes it, and then says, "Happy Valentine's Day, Paulie."

 

**+1. Chocolate Chip Cookies, June 25**

James has been texting with Paul enough to know he's still in Minnesota. He lucks out, too, and Paul is at home when James rings his doorbell.

"James," he says when he opens the door, questioning tone in his voice and surprised look on his face.

"Hi," James says. "I brought you some cookies." He holds up the container, one of Paul's, that's the only thing he took out of the rental car when he went up to the house.

It doesn't take all of the surprise off Paul's face, but he lets James in and hugs him after he closes the door. It would be better if James weren't still holding the container, but he can at least wrap one arm around Paul.

After they hug, Paul takes the container and heads into the house. James kicks off his shoes and follows Paul into the kitchen.

James takes one of the stools at the counter and says, "They're not like your cookies. They're just the break and bake kind."

"I can tell." Paul holds up one that still has a corner sticking out of it where the dough didn't totally flatten out in the oven. He's smiling, though, so James doesn't take it as too much of an insult.

Paul puts a handful of cookies on a plate and puts it in the microwave. He pours them each a glass of milk, puts the warm cookies down between them, and sits on the other stool at the counter.

Paul dunks a cookie in his milk and doesn't make grossed out faces or anything when he eats it, so they must not be too terrible. "Did you come to Minnesota just to bring me break and bake cookies?"

"I had to return your containers," James says.

Paul laughs, but then fixes James with a look.

James breaks a cookie in half for something to do with his hands. "Come to Nashville."

Paul raises his eyebrows. "Are you their interviewing committee?"

"No," James says. He pauses. "Well, I did tell them they should talk to you, but I'm not here, like, officially or anything."

The corners of Paul's mouth turn up like he's laughing at James. "Officially you're still in Whitby?"

James makes a face at him. "I'm here, but I'm not officially here representing the team. You're a free agent next week. Sign with Nashville." He keeps breaking his cookie into smaller and smaller pieces. "We have strong D already, but you could do good things for us. I know the guys would all like you."

Paul puts his hand over James's wrist, holding it down against the counter. "James," he says, "I don't even know if I'm going to play next year."

James's mouth drops open. "What do you mean you're not going to play next year?"

Paul sighs. "I'm thirty-four. Everything hurts. When we got knocked out of the playoffs this year, I was sorry to lose, but I also thought, 'Thank God I don't have to work out for three weeks.' It might be time for me to retire."

James bites down on the instinct to protest that Paul has another couple of good years ahead of him. It's not actually the important part of the conversation. "So come to Nashville anyway," he says. "You can keep me company."

He's serious about it, and Paul looks like he's taking it seriously, but then he says, "You just want someone to make you breakfast."

James twists his wrist, still under Paulie's hand, and wraps his fingers around Paul's wrist. "I don't care if you never cook again."

Paulie meets his eyes, surprise and then softness spreading across his face. They just look at each other for a moment, hands around each other's wrists. It's a moment, and it stretches on and on, James afraid to do anything to break it. And then Paul pulls his hand away and gets out his phone.

"What are you doing?" James really thought they were on the same page with that moment.

"Texting my agent," Paulie says, "to tell him the only offer I'm willing to consider is one year, no movement with Nashville."

Objectively speaking, the cookies James brought aren't anywhere near as good as anything Paul has ever made for him, but they taste like the best thing in the world when Paulie feeds them to him between kisses.


End file.
